By the book
by Zerbinetta
Summary: Some rules are made for a reason, as she had taught him. Others are made to be broken, as he had shown her.


This one-shot is entirely the product of boredom and unwillingness to study for my last exam. With the influence of the Mass Effect indoctrination on the side, I suppose. I liked the Paragon and Renegade themes, so I used them here. Anything you recognize from the awesomeness that is Mass Effect doesn't belong to me.

**o.O.o**

**By the book**

**o.O.o**

If she was the paragon of all virtues, then he would be a renegade, a rogue, certainly.

They had the same goals, essentially, but their methods differed greatly. At the beginning, it was something he learned to quietly resent. He had believed that after being liberated from the world of protocol and procedure that seemed to be the heart of Citadel Station, more paths would open themselves to him. Moreover, working with a Spectre was like a fantasy come true. The top agents of the Council didn't answer to anyone but themselves and the highest government branch, making it much easier to do their job.

And, in general, humans were considered rather impulsive, which was simply another reason to rejoice; after all, it was more than likely that this meant the job would be all the more enjoyable and devoid of any kind of restrictions and rules.

Or so he had thought.

Shepard was somewhat of a paradox; she was a human and a Spectre, yet she did her best to solve problems "the good way", as she called it, not "the quick way". Then again, everything about her was a paradox, from the way she spoke diplomatically whenever possible and then fired up when facing the Council to the times she cringed at the sight of too much blood and yet wasn't afraid to lift up an opponent into the air with her biotics and then blow their head off with her shotgun.

From the very beginning, she had striven to have good, even cordial relationships with her crew, even though she had no true cause to do so. And in the end, it had proven a great strategic move when at last, the time to sacrifice someone came and the moment of would-be betrayal had to be stopped. But somehow, Garrus supposed that securing loyalty in this way hadn't been her attention, even though that made the most tactical sense. She was trying to make certain that they weren't distracted from their mission.

And, slowly, it was working. She was an influence on the crew – for the better, in all cases. Whenever violence wasn't necessary, she chose the alternate route. And she was still deadly effective and precise. But it wasn't until she helped him deal with a case from his past that he realized that there was actually something to this approach. That he could choose to be different than those he was pursuing and still succeed. It would take much more effort to succeed under such circumstances, but there was a possibility that it might work.

From then on, he admired the human who, to an untrained eye, would have seemed very frail, slender. And resemblance to hard metal ended with the steely determination in her eyes. But as their resident asari was always quick to point out whenever possible, the commander had a strong mind. And spirit, perhaps that could be added as well, because she kept pressing on no matter how difficult the task, how bad the odds.

At times, Garrus was ashamed that he found himself waiting for the moment when her resolve to do the right thing would crumble. After all, they had seen their share of desperate situations and sometimes, blasting their way out of a tight spot seemed the only option, right before Shepard came up with a different, less bloody solution. Strangely, that moment never came, despite the danger, despite what Williams would at times don human nature in post-battle discussions. It was as if Shepard strove to prove to the universe that there was more to humanity than what the other races thought they saw.

She had succeeded in convincing her crew, certainly, though at times, the turian wondered if it was only Shepard herself that was a bright exception. He admired her for all the virtues she seemed to embody and the strength she exhibited at every turn, yet he couldn't help but think of his experiences with other representatives of her race. None had been too good – but that could be just the natural wariness of his race speaking. Nevertheless, his opinion of humanity rose, as the commander seemed to be able to bring out the best even in the rest of the large human percentage of her crew.

By the time he realized that what he saw in her extended beyond this admiration, it was too late. Not in the sense one might believe; Shepard kept an open-door policy for all her crew and would likely hear him out, but by the time she became more than a symbol, more than _the_ human, he had changed. He no longer listened to his brash courage of old, but instead tried to be analytical about his decisions rather than just rushing in on impulse, without an actual plan. It was now impossible to simply walk up to her and pour out his passions.

And when he cared to analyze it, he realized with bitterness that it was an audacious suggestion.

Not only because it was unlikely that Shepard shared his feelings, if her amused and somewhat lenient reactions to her lieutenant's timid slips of the tongue regarding her were to be considered, but also because of the racial factor. Never mind that they weren't of the same species; the main factor was that no human or turian would ever be supportive of such a union, considering the past history the two races shared.

The First Contact War, as the humans called it, had only taken place less than three decades ago. That was hardly enough to make it seem like the distant past. What was the worst, however, that Shepard wasn't simply a human Alliance commander any longer; as the first human Spectre, most humans in the galaxy now knew her name, if not her face. After years on the Citadel, Garrus knew better than to doubt that gossip was the most powerful force in the universe.

No one was ever too discreet. Eventually, willingly or not, word would leak out accidentally or on purpose. And Shepard had more than enough on her figurative plate than to have to deal with an ill-fated romance as well.

Of course, months ago, it likely wouldn't have mattered to him. Back then, he wouldn't have even thought about thinking that far and would have rushed into things without taking the time to consider anything. He would have been more terrified than in a fight for his life, most likely, once he faced her curious eyes and told her that she had progressed from being _the_ human to being _the_ person in his eyes. But he would have faced the challenge with the same hot-headedness he employed in his daily work and proudly accepted whatever answer she would give, no matter what feeling it might evoke.

Nowadays, he knew better than to disregard the greater picture. He understood the troubles of the galaxy far better than back then, in the small world the Citadel was. And he knew, more securely than before, that after all the wrongs inflicted upon her by the Council and the members of their races, Shepard, for all her kindness, would hardly care to become involved with one of them.

And she was happy, it seemed, with the perfectly natural and entirely understandable evolving relationship between herself and Lieutenant Alenko. The charges of fraternization no one would care to press after all they had been through together were a small price to pay in comparison to being condemned by the selfish and proud ones among her race if she turned to one of those who had invaded them (or so they viewed it) for comfort.

If there was any single rule he had learned to obey without question, it was allowing Shepard happiness and not interfering with it. Whatever the cost. That was the one rule the book didn't mention but the one the crew universally respected.

When Williams once jokingly thanked her for being humanity's guardian angel, Shepard wanted with all her being to counter that. But it was a correct assumption, in a way. The commander always adhered to the book, always followed the rules. Not only those of the Alliance and military in general; compared to some fine examples of humanity she had had the misfortune of seeing over the years, Shepard was different in one way; she had a moral compass that always showed her the way.

Or mostly, in any case.

She tried to make her crew live up to her race's expectations and help them represent the best humanity had to offer. They were a symbol and symbols weren't allowed flaws. And she supposed that in the eyes of anyone without kindness, her feelings would most certainly be considered a flaw.

It started with a gunshot, of all things.

She had immediately snapped at the turian officer that he could have easily killed the hostage by such careless actions, but the fact remained that he didn't; in all likelihood, he had actually saved the doctor with his precise action. Nevertheless, it was reckless and impulsive, quite unlike what she was used to enforcing. Perhaps that was the reason why she tried her best to show him a better method of solving problems than simply shooting the suspect when he joined their crew.

But in a way, she admired the free way of thinking Garrus seemed to employ most of the time. She followed her own gut instinct at all times – which usually meant doing things "the good way", as she would often say – but it wasn't always the best solution. She remembered Elysium far too well; back then, rash action would have been considered suicidal, but she could have saved more lives. But Shepard being Shepard, she always managed to convince herself that unless she tried to do things correctly, she was no better than those who did them wrong.

Her beliefs were put to the test when she agreed to help Garrus with that salarian doctor that had caused him such anger; in the first instant, however, something within her told her that she should give the command to kill the worthless bastard. After all, his deeds were monstrous and he would have likely received his just deserts at the hands of his mutated test subjects if they hadn't intervened. Nevertheless, she quenched that instinct. She was doing this for Garrus, not for the salarian. In the end, he died anyway, based on his own foolishness, but she knew that they had tried, at least.

But she was pleased when Garrus seemed to understand her point. And a strange feeling settled in her when he noted that she was unlike anyone he had ever met. It was a great compliment, indeed, but she wasn't certain it was entirely true.

Was she that different? She was flesh and blood just like any other human, with flaws and feelings, which perhaps fell into the former. And she longed for the freedom to choose between doing things right and fast. As the first human Spectre, she believed in setting an example. As the first human Spectre, it was hardly proper for her to act rashly. Yet she envied Garrus for having that choice, not being part of the military she was.

It took a series of hard knocks to show her that she did indeed have the choice, but the will to make it was another thing entirely. It wasn't simply about choices on the battlefield; it was also about her own choices. More and more, she was becoming convinced that, just as she had shown the turian that there were other ways of finishing a task than the first one he saw, Garrus had made her see that the best choice was not necessarily regarded as the best by others or that it made everyone happy in the end.

She wasn't quite ready to give up on her complete belief in moral right and wrong, but she understood that the choice was always there. And if she wasn't still thinking about the good of maintaining a clean slate as Spectre, she would have acted upon these feelings, choosing that which might not be regarded as morally correct; choosing him. Not everyone would understand the decision; some would outright condemn it; but she was getting used to having her choices condemned, so matter their rightness or wrongness. And one choice that would deviate from someone's lax concept of correctness was her due.

She lived her life by the book, always choosing the galaxy before herself. But she yearned for the courage to defy it and slowly, she was gaining it, despite her own fear and wariness. Her appreciation for such daring grew, as did her respect for such willingness to accept change, until she was finally able to do the math regarding her own feelings.

Rules and regs were something that every soldier had to adhere to. But, if she was to be honest with herself, she had done many things against both of those lately. And perhaps it was high time for her to learn to be unpredictable, to stand up for herself and make a decision that would fit into the galaxy's perception of humans. After all, if there was any truth a politician had ever said to her, it was that she had been a human long before she became a Spectre. And a human was allowed to be reckless, a renegade, simply due to the fact that everyone else expected that of a human.

Moreover, the only rules she would be breaking were those that had no bearing on her status or her mission; as Garrus wasn't a part of the Alliance military, there was absolutely nothing anyone could charge them of, should he… should he what? Turians generally weren't fond of humans; Saren was a prime example of this. However, she preferred to remember what the late Nihlus had told her before their single mission together; that some of his people saw the potential of her species. That as long as she did her job, no one cared if she was human.

And Shepard was nothing if not thorough in doing her job to the letter.

Collecting all of her daring and courage, Shepard tossed the rules aside, just for a single moment, just in this case, perhaps the first of many, and deliberately went against the book for the first time in her life. There were enough wrong decisions being made around her to have her contribute to the general mood by following suit.

"Garrus?" The turian looked up from his terminal in the general vicinity of the Mako. Everyone else was likely in the mess trying to grab whatever food was left while he decided to use time more productively and estimate the amount of repairs their vehicle would need before their next journey. Before him stood Shepard, uniformed as always, though there was something slightly less officer-like about her than usual.

It was pleasing, in a way, to see her look so different, but his instincts told him that the reasons for this were going to be either very good or very bad – either way, an extreme. And being in her presence alone was usually enough of a test of his control.

"Commander, good to see you." he said cordially, drinking in every line of her face and every detail of her expression. "Was there something you needed?"

Shepard smiled brightly, more than she believed herself capable of doing. It felt a bit unnatural, but then again, freedom after a long time of being tied down usually was. "Yes, there was." Him, she wanted to say, but she supposed that if there ever was a time to be diplomatic and careful, it was now. "I would like to talk."

She was making him visibly uncomfortable for some reason, which brought just a tinge of regret and doubt to her mind, but she knew better than to turn tail and run. "What about?" He hid it well, though, whatever suspicions he had. Shepard made a mental note to carefully suggest that he try his luck with reapplying for Spectre training.

"Everything." she said simply, as if that was answer enough. To one question, it actually was: which path she was choosing.

If he could reform his professional ways to those of a paragon, who was to deny her the permission to do the same, only in reverse, off the record?

Certainly not the rulebook, which was by now floating in the vacuum outside, having been promptly tossed out of the airlock. Just this once.


End file.
